Emily. He had called her “Emily” and seemed not to even realize he had done so. She felt a glow of warmth. Enough to let her answer equably, “I understand that change takes time. And the sooner we begin, the sooner it will happen.”
He nodded, and they both fell silent. And then the rain began. Gentle, at first, then harsh clattering on the roof of the cottage. Philip stared at her in dismay.
“I cannot take you back in this!” he said.
Emily did not answer but merely wrapped her arms around herself tighter, for the temperature had begun to drop rapidly with the rain. Immediately Philip removed his jacket and put it around her shoulders.
Then he turned and began to lay a fire in the fireplace. Emily made an instinctive gesture of protest and over his shoulder he said, curtly, “In this weather there will be no one to see the smoke coming from the chimney. Nor likely to come after us if they do. We do not know how long we must remain here and I will not have you take a chill.”
Emily wanted to protest such high-handedness, but she could not. Already she did feel a chill and would be grateful for the warmth if they would be here for very long.
And when the blaze was burning nicely and she sat with his arms wrapped around her for added warmth, Emily admitted to herself that there were far worse ways one could spend an evening.
And when the rain kept on steadily, well past midnight, Emily could not find it in herself to be sorry. He let her sit by his side, her head against his shoulder, and she could think of few things in the world she could want more. The cottage was dirty and cold and damp and still she fell asleep as easily as if she were in her own bed at home. Easier, for somehow, with Philip by her side, she felt utterly safe.
Chapter 21
Morning came quietly. The fire had long since burned itself out and Emily and Philip still lay together, before the now cold hearth, wrapped in every blanket they could find.
Emily woke first, as the rays of the sun peeked inside the cottage windows. It took her only a moment to realize where she was and why. Then, carefully, she disentangled herself from Mr. Langford, from Philip, and glided toward the door.
It opened silently and with one last regretful look at him, she slipped outside and headed for home. With luck, no one would ever know they had spent the night together. Philip would not need to fear any retribution from her father. Nor would he feel he needed to make amends, as she was certain he otherwise would.
Her heart was already lost to Philip. And because it was, she could not allow him to be coerced into marrying her. She had known, when he first broached the notion to her, that his heart was not engaged and it was all a ruse and she had accepted it. She could not change the rules now. Not when he would hate her if she did.
* * * *
Philip woke with a groan. It seemed that every bone in his body ached and his muscles were stiff from sleeping on the floor.
The floor! What the devil was he doing on the floor? Another moment and he was awake enough to know where he was and why. And to realize that Emily was missing.
He felt a moment’s alarm, afraid that Canfield had somehow managed to steal her away. Even as common sense asserted itself and he knew that he surely would have heard such a thing, some instinct told him she was nevertheless gone. He tried to tell himself that perhaps she had just gone outside to relieve herself, but he didn’t believe it.
He understood, even before he found proof, that she had gone home to protect him. To prevent him from having to marry her. And it ought to have been what he wanted. But it wasn’t, Philip realized with a shock. He wanted to know that he would wake every morning with Emily at his side. He wanted to know that she would be there when he came home at night. He wanted to know that she would be there to badger him during the day. He wanted, he realized, to make her his wife. To have her heart belong to him as his already did to her.
But she did not, patently could not, feel the same. Why else would she have left this morning without waking him? And left, he was certain she had.
And he was right. Emily was nowhere to be found. Philip wasted several minutes searching the area around the cottage. Then he noticed her shoe prints in the still muddy ground. They led straight away, as though she had not hesitated in where she was going. Which meant, he thought, that she had probably gone home.
He followed her trail long enough to be certain he was right. Then he veered away, assured of her safety, and headed in the direction of Canfield’s property. It would be faster if he had a horse, but he could think of no way of obtaining one that would not raise questions and suspicions. So he went on foot, recalling from the day before the way that Miss Ashbourne had pointed out to him.
It took a while to get there and Philip had the lowering suspicion that his boots would have to be thrown away after this expedition. But they got him there and although the major domo regarded him with suspicion, he did allow Philip to enter and agreed to ask if Mr. Canfield would see him.
Canfield, as Philip had expected, could not resist discovering why he was there. So, fifteen minutes later, Philip found himself shown into the breakfast room and waved to a seat and offered a plate.
“You have the look of a man who is hungry,” Canfield said affably.
“I am,” Philip agreed curtly.
“You also have the look of a man who has not slept well,” Canfield persisted.
“I didn’t.”
“You also—”
“I also have the look of a man who has been thwarted in his plans!” Philip snapped as he filled his plate from the sideboard.
That raised Canfield’s eyebrows and a speculative gleam appeared in his eyes. Still, his voice was mild as he said, “Indeed? Care to tell me about it?”
Philip had no need to feign irritation. Or indignation. He let both emotions fill his voice as he said, “I had it all planned. Miss Ashbourne intended to cry off, never mind why, and I had to prevent her.” He paused and then said, with a sigh, “She made me bring her home and meant to tell her father, here, away from all the tabbies in London. This was my last chance to change her mind. And if my plan had worked, she would have had to marry me. She couldn’t possibly have cried off, if things had gone the way they were supposed to go.”
“But they didn’t?” Canfield hazarded shrewdly.
“No, they didn’t! Chit slipped the leash when I wasn’t looking,” Philip grumbled. “Now she’s certain to cry off and I’ve nothing to show for my pains and little likelihood she’ll let herself be caught out again with me.”
“None in the least, I should think,” Canfield agreed.
There was silence as the two men plied their knives and forks. Then Canfield said, puzzlement evident in his voice, “I understand your ill humor. What confuses me is why you should show up at my doorstep.”
Philip looked him in the eye. “Because,” he said with exaggerated patience, “I am without a horse and yours was the nearest doorstep.”
“Ah, that explains it, then,” Canfield said. “Well, I can certainly spare you one to return you to the Ashbourne household. If, that is, you think you will still be welcome there?”
It was a question. Philip pretended to consider the point. At last he sighed and let his shoulders slump as he answered, “It don’t signify. I must return there in any event, as I am certain that is where my groom will have taken the horses and arranged for the carriage to be returned, once it is repaired. Besides”—he allowed himself to smile thinly—”Miss Ashbourne will not wish to advertise what occurred. I think it most unlikely that she will have told her father or aunt what transpired.”
It was Canfield’s turn to consider the matter. At last he nodded, “I think you may be right. No doubt she will fob them off with some other tale. Never known a girl so reluctant to be married.”
He shot a keen glance at Philip then added seriously, “Whatever your reason for wishing to be leg-shackled to Miss Ashbourne, I tell you frankly that I think you are better off failing in the attempt. She will not make any man a comforta
ble wife. Why did you wish to marry her, anyway, Mr. Langford? And why did you have to take such measures to persuade her? I thought she liked you.”
And how was he to answer that? Philip felt himself color up and decided it could only add support to his tale. If he could decide what to say, that is.
It was evident, of course, why Canfield had wanted to marry Miss Ashbourne. It would have raised his social standing, or so he thought. But Philip had no such easy answer.
He played for time. He allowed himself to seem to look wildly about the room before he settled his gaze on Canfield’s face. Then he swallowed hard, straightened, and appeared to come to a decision.
“M’father wrote the most damnable will,” he said, at last. “A legacy to each of his sons, with none of us able to touch a penny until we marry. If we marry. And no allowance for the fact a man might have trouble finding a bride.”
“You?” Canfield scoffed.
Philip shot him a sharp look. “You’ve not been in London much, have you?” he asked. “Or moved in certain circles. On the surface I look much the eligible bachelor. But I made a mistake. Or two. And now none of the matchmaking mamas will let their daughters near me. I thought Miss Ashbourne hadn’t had a chance to learn of any of it. It seems I was mistaken. Someone opened their jawbox and told her. Just when I thought it was all set and my creditors had agreed to extend me the time I needed until after the marriage and my inheritance was mine. That’s when she said she meant to break it off. She even insisted on coming back here. Well, what was I to do? This was my last chance to make her change her mind!”
This last ended on a curse and a hand thrust through Philip’s dark hair. He had no need to feign the frustration he felt.
Apparently it was enough to satisfy Canfield for he nodded. “It seems we have both been rolled up by the chit. Mind you, it would almost be worth it to see you bring her to heel. But that’s not likely to happen now. Come, I’ll drive you to her house.”
Canfield paused, halfway out of the dining room to ask, “Why did you visit my mill with her, yesterday?”
By now Philip had himself well in hand. “Why do you think?” he demanded with a snort. “To make her believe I am in sympathy with her concerns. And because I hoped to find an excuse to delay and strand us alone somewhere.”
Canfield tilted his head to one side. “So you don’t care about conditions in my mills?”
“Why the devil should I?” Philip asked, with a frown. “I do not expect to ever have to work in one. And even if I did, I should never be so mad as to think that anyone else would care or that I could do anything about them!”
For a moment matters hung in the balance then Canfield nodded to himself, as though satisfied by what he read in Langford’s face.
Half an hour later, Canfield set Philip down in front of the Ashbourne home. “I do hope you plan to return to London soon,” the businessman said sharply.
“As quickly as I can change my clothes and my valet can pack my bags,” Philip assured him. “If Miss Ashbourne will not marry me, I’ve no time to lose. Nor,” he said grimly, “do I have a wish to be made a fool of twice.”
With another curt nod, Canfield drove away and Philip slowly mounted the steps, praying that he had succeeded in allaying the man’s suspicions.
Inside he found Mr. Ashbourne and Miss Ashbourne and Miss Jarrod all but shouting at one another. In spite of himself, Philip flinched.
“...All night?” Mr. Ashbourne demanded.
“I told you, I was lost.”
“Alone? Where was Mr. Langford?” Miss Jarrod asked in a quavering voice.
“The last his groom saw of the pair of you, you were supposed to be headed here,” Mr. Ashbourne added sternly.
“We were lost and separated in the rain.”
Miss Ashbourne appeared to have an answer for everything, but it was time to rescue her, Philip decided. He pushed open the door to the parlor and stepped inside, careful to close it behind him.
His presence immediately produced a blessed silence as three people gaped at him. Mr. Ashbourne recovered first and advanced upon him.
“Where the devil have you been?”
Philip glanced at Miss Ashbourne who was regarding him with beseeching eyes. With a calm he did not feel, Philip said, “I spent the night in an abandoned cottage.”
“Alone?” Miss Jarrod asked, hopefully.
He meant to abide by Miss Ashbourne’s wishes and say that he had been alone. But then Mr. Ashbourne demanded, “Why weren’t you out searching for my daughter? Weren’t you concerned about her welfare?”
That did it. Philip lost his temper. “I didn’t have to look for your daughter, sir, because she was with me!”
That really did it. Once again three people gaped at him in stunned surprise. Then Mr. Ashbourne rounded on his daughter.
“Again?” he demanded. “What is the matter with you, that you must make a habit of such behavior? What am I to think? I begin to think you are no daughter of mine!”
But Philip could not allow Miss Ashbourne to be abused in such a way. He ignored Miss Jarrod who kept murmuring, “Oh, dear, oh, dear.”
Philip moved to stand beside Miss Ashbourne and put an arm around her waist. She tried to pull free, but he would not let her.
“I will marry your daughter, of course,” he said stoutly. “You may send a notice to the papers at once. And have the banns proclaimed.”
“No!”
He looked down at Miss Ashbourne. He could see the dismay, the anger, the growing horror in her eyes. Without knowing he did so, Philip smiled tenderly down at her. “We have no choice, you know. And I promise I shall do my best to make you happy as my wife.”
A tear welled up in first one eye and then the other. And began to trickle down her cheek. It tore at Philip’s heart but he stood resolute.
“Surely you see this is much the best solution?” he told her, wiping away the tear with his hand.
She pulled her head back and turned her face away from him. “You do not even ask what I would wish in this!” she said in a choked voice.
“It is beyond wishes,” Philip countered. “Yours or mine. But I do not think we will deal so badly with one another. We have not done so up until now.”
“Up until now we have been friends, nothing more!” she countered. “Can you swear that will not change? That you will not try to rule me, once we are wed?”
Philip hesitated, taken aback. He wanted to reassure her that of course nothing would change. But he was too honest for that. With great care, he chose his words, trying to feel his way as to what he would do.
“I promise your wishes will always be paramount with me,” he said.
“Not in this matter!”
He flushed. “They will always be paramount,” he amended, “save when it is not in your best interests for me to agree to them.”
Now her eyes were flashing with anger as she looked up at him. “And who are you to decide that?”
“I will be your husband,” he said stiffly. “It will be my duty to make such decision. For the both of us.”
Now she did succeed in completely breaking free of him. Emily backed away, her fists clenched at her sides. Her voice was wild as she flung her words at him.
“Now do you wonder that I never wish to marry? It is because of just such arrogance as yours! You say you will consider my wishes, but only when they do not run counter to yours. No, I tell you! I will not marry you. I will not marry anyone. Let me be a spinster, like Aunt Agatha. I shall be far happier than as a slave to some man’s mind!”
Philip went white. His own fists clenched at his side, though he was not conscious of it. He had no answers for her for her words were so outside of what he knew to be right and proper and sensible.
Nor could her father do more than remonstrate by saying her name over and over again. “Now, Emily! Emily!”
It was left to Miss Jarrod to answer her. The older woman, who had, at one point retreated to the farthest cor
ner of the room, now came toward her niece. Her own voice was hot with anger as she spoke.
“So you wish to follow in my footsteps, do you, Emily? Well, consider them well, for you would have even fewer advantages than I do! You would be always dependent upon the charity of your male relatives, of whom there are very few. Always at their beck and call when you are allowed to stay in their homes. Never having all of the necessities of life, and surely no luxuries.”
She paused and drew a deep breath before she went on, “Even I, who was left a competence by my father, was not allowed to set up household on my own. Consider, Emily! Do you truly mean that you would rather be whispered about and laughed at than be the wife of a man who would treat you with kindness and consideration? You will not even try to see if there is a way to reach a contract, of sorts, between you? You will not even try to see if he might be amenable to change or to listening to what you wish to say?”
Now it was Emily’s turn to go very pale. She flinched at each question flung at her. And when Miss Jarrod was done, she took a step toward the older woman and held out her hand.
“I never knew you were so unhappy,” she said.
Miss Jarrod shrugged irritably. “And I was to tell you? And have you worry over something that was neither your fault nor in your power to correct? I think not!”
“Listen to her!” Mr. Ashbourne said hastily. “Agatha makes a great deal of sense.”
“But what about Mary Wollstonecraft?” Emily asked.
Agatha snorted derisively. “That is theory! This is real life.”
With a sense of desperation, Philip said, in a voice that was not altogether steady, “Perhaps you could let me talk with Miss Ashbourne alone? I know it is not entirely conventional but—”
He got no further before Mr. Ashbourne snapped, “Why not? You have already done something far more improper than that! And if you can talk some sense into my obstinate daughter, you will have my eternal gratitude, Mr. Langford. As well as her hand in marriage.”
And then, without another word, Mr. Ashbourne stalked from the room followed by Miss Jarrod who walked away with a back held ramrod straight and a pinched look on her face.
The Reckless Barrister Page 17